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by Ludo Wifeman
Summary: The nine steps of falling out of hate with yourself and your enemy. GrimmIchiHichi/GrimmIchi HichiIchi


**[**a/n: Why? Because I can. I've had awful writers block for almost a year now; not to mention I've scored myself a job and I'm now going to course to become a chef, whoo! But enough about me.

GrimmIchiHichi. Because this pairing is a little, dirty secret of mine that isn't so secret. Enjoy.

**Standard disclaimer.]**

. .

One

The first time they do anything besides fight is rather innocent, really.

At least, it is until the point where Ichigo's pretty much naked save for his open and hanging gi, muscles tensing despite how much he doesn't want them to- fuck, it _hurts _like a bitch -with Grimmjow's hands holding on to his hips so tightly it'll leave bruises- there's no doubt in his mind.

To someone else- someone much saner, maybe, Ichigo doesn't really know [or rather, can't really think beyond "_fuck_" or "_harder_" or "_why is this_-"] -something like his could be called traitorous, and really- it is. On all kinds of levels of wrong.

But it's hard to focus on the bad shit when there's an admittedly hot man behind you, thrusting with the same kind of intent and determination that was used to _kill_, but it doesn't really matter.

It doesn't, honestly. At least that's what Ichigo tries to think to himself as he bites down, hard, on his lip, quivering with the need to moan out loud.

Grimmjow makes a sound that seeems caught in between a snort and a laugh, sliding rough palms down shaking thighs and the feeling that envelopes Ichigo makes him want to vomit.

Instead, he pushes back, knees scraping on the dark wet pavement beneath them while his hands claw at the wall he's leaned against. His muscles contract at the intrusion, and those rough palms that were- _seemed_ to be- making calming motions against his hot skin dig into Ichigo's flesh and- jesus.

There has to be something wrong with him.

When they finish [all in a few more empty, hard thrusts, Grimmjow's hands back on his hips, bruising; Ichigo heaving deep breathes as he tips his head back and let's out a little moan] the teal-haired hollow pulls out quickly, not bothering to be gentle or kind because, fuck- who else can say they've fucked not _only _a shinigami, but the one who looks like they'll save everyone?

While Grimmjow barks smugly, blood and sweat and semen mixing with the pounding rain, Ichigo stares up into the moon and wonders what _is _wrong with him.

. .

Two

The second time, it's not an accident.

Not as much of an accident as walking down an alleyway to find your enemy pounding one off like a dirty whore down a dirty street, but almost the same.

After, when Ichigo is limping away feeling dirty and defeated, there is deranged laughter in the back of his mind telling him that he's the stray sheep who keeps looking for danger.

The broken one looking for something to fix itself.

"_Innit that right, King?_" the hollow cackles at him, and the broken feeling envelopes him. "_You're goin' 'round lookin' for someone to help _fix _you, and you go t'_him?_"_

"Shut up," Ichigo says, an empty bark into an empty night as he limps away, broken and breaking even more.

. .

Three

This time it isn't so much as meeting half way, as it's been before, but finding yourself in the position of kill or be killed.

Ichigo chooses option C, and tugs on Grimmjow's wrist.

Tugs _hard _and then Pantera is on the ground, scrapes an angry, shallow, red line across Ichigo's already bleeding legs before finding purchase in the earth and there are hands in his hair that pull and, suddenly, his mouth is full of _want _and sacrifice and Grimmjow and he doesn't think he's ever felt so full.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, like he's dying a happy death, when Grimmjow's tongue presses against his sealed lips and he lets the man in because.

"'M'sorry," the teal haired hollow murmurs against his neck; bites down with sharp teeth because they both know this is so _wrong_. "M'sorry."

Ichigo- shrugs, and thinks he'd die right here if he was allowed.

. .

Four

The Hollow laughs at him in the middle of the night, sometimes, and only when he's alone and aching and wondering if he'll be allowed to live tomorrow.

They still don't know. But it won't take long.

_"-Black sheep, so alone_," the voice whispers, almost like a lover, and maybe- maybe- if the hollow wasn't another part and if his mind wasn't split in two, he'd be okay with that. "_But I'm here. We're here. I'm here. Aren't we good enough-_"

And it sounds a little like prayer.

[Only, it isn't. Ichigo's never been a religious man. Not really. He doesn't expect much the same from his hollow.]

Something in him aches, and he knows it isn't from himself.

. .

Five

Ichigo is _losing_.

He knows it. Grimmjow knows it. _Everyone _knows it and it fractures at the edge of his sanity; the little snippets in the middle of the night, the ghost of a hand against his flesh and he [Grimmjow] knows it isn't the illicit lover that Ichigo's refusing to give up.

At the edge of his solitude, a voice rings out, high and mighty, something about kings and horses and carrying a burden because, he's not royalty, but he's prideful.

And like that, the Hollow isn't in Ichigo's head anymore. He's in front of him.

He's in front of _Grimmjow_.

And it feels a little shameful, like the ugly thing everyone carries around. The Hollow frowns and seethes at the comment, but they both know it's true.

The Hollow seethes, still, but doesn't say a thing.

Then there are hands on Ichigo. All over him. And there is a mix of blue and white and wow. Wow.

_Wow_.

The Hollow's sneer, together, and it's the most beautiful thing Ichigo's ever seen.

. .

Six

It lasts for a long time.

A really, long time.

Grimmjow likes to fuck the Hollow in front of him, sometimes, just to see what would happen. Dirty and hard and almost like the teal-haired man was the reincarnation of fucking.

It's fantastic, but Ichigo refuses to acknowledge that.

[Once, Grimmjow did the same to Ichigo, with the Hollow watching. It was equal parts hot and just as delicious, but by the end of it the three of them were so exhausted they forgot how it all started.

The Hollow and Ichigo already know the result of screwing each other mad in front of Grimmjow. They have the bruises on their hips and bites on their flesh to prove it.]

The Hollow pretends not to care, but slowly, almost like a flower in the spring, Ichigo can feel the little warmth at the shared thought-idea-want of the other man.

Ichigo grins up at the Hollow, and the albino grins back; like a mirror.

Like a reflection.

Then the bed beneath them dips, indicating the new arrival-

[It's late. Really late. His dad is out at a conference and the twins are at a party-]

-and Grimmjow says, "fuck, that's hot" and those hands are back, finding home against Ichigo's flesh.

. .

Seven

Grimmjow grunts, "_fuck_" against one side his neck and it sounds like poetry.

Hollow whispers, "_yes_" to the other side and it's absolutely beautiful.

Ichigo thinks, _this is Love_ and the duo above him cackle madly.

. .

Eight

Ichigo wonders if he'll go to hell.

Hollow tells him to shut the fuck up, or we'll gag you [they've done it before, and it was-] while touching his hip gently.

Grimmjow shrugs his jacket off and crawls on to the bed, grin malicious and wicked, but his hands rest against his shoulder softly.

They say, "it doesn't matter" and kiss him.

. .

Nine

And it's love in it's finest fashion.


End file.
